


Brothers In Arms

by HallowedNight



Series: Blood and Clay (Nux-Centric Oneshots) [5]
Category: Mad Max Series (Movies), Mad Max: Fury Road
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Character/Culture Study, Explosions, Lots of explosions, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-01
Updated: 2015-06-01
Packaged: 2018-04-02 07:36:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4051735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HallowedNight/pseuds/HallowedNight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It was a raid day. Nux was practically vibrating, shaking from lack of sleep, running on nothing but adrenaline and fierce joy as he sprinted to his car, Slit cackling manically at his heels."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Brothers In Arms

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, I've been wanting to write this for a long time. A nice, poetic raid scene! :D
> 
> Only stipulation is, you have to listen to Brothers In Arms from the MMFR soundtrack as you read. 'Cause that's what I was listening to when I read it, and that's basically what Doof is playing, except more 'guitar-y'.
> 
> Anyway, enjoy!

It was a raid day. Nux was practically vibrating, shaking from lack of sleep, running on nothing but adrenaline and fierce joy as he sprinted to his car, Slit cackling manically at his heels.

This, _this_ was what Nux lived for, why he didn’t throw himself under the wheels of the nearest vehicle and laugh his way into the next life. They were War Boys, kami-crazy, and they were _made_ for this.

This was a big raid; they were going to blast up a Buzzard den for coming too close to Citadel. At least, that’s what Nux absorbed before his mind snapped to his car and he stopped listening to Ace. He felt fragmented, like he always did before they rode out into the blazing sunrise, like his thoughts were fleeing into the desert before him, dragging him towards his calling.

He screeched into the cold, dark air like everyone else when they finally tore out of Citadel. The sun was sitting just below the horizon, casting a halo around the mountains in the distance, golden against the deep blue of night. This raid was big enough to warrant the Doof Wagon, the little guitarist shredding away happily as the party sped over the desert, kicking up a cloud of sand and dust behind them.

The drums of war thudded in Nux’s chest as he slammed his foot to the floor, a wild laugh tearing from his throat as the car shot forward, Slit howling on the back like a rabid dog, screaming for blood and death. The Boys moved as one, cars weaving between and around each other with uncanny precision, a well-oiled machine built for fire and destruction. Nux was proud, he was _ecstatic_ , to be one of its gears.

No one had slept the night before, with sick rolling through the bunks, but that didn’t matter. No one coughed on a raid. The thirst for blood overcame everything, damped down coughs and straightened spines, soothed cramped muscles and aching bones.

Nux’s breathing quickened as Doof started striking long, heavy chords, the drums thudding in a frenzied tattoo against his skull as the sun finally broke the horizon, slicing through the dark, dyeing the sands red-gold against the pale sky. He grinned widely when he caught the sound of an unfamiliar engine; that was the Buzzards, coming to get them. _Perfect._

Nux and two other drivers split off the pack, moving in seamless harmony, lancers jumping and screaming to each other, ready to blast metal and flesh. In the end, it was Slit who got a lance under the last car of the scouting pack, Doof’s music rising to a crescendo as the vehicle spiraled into the air, propelled by the explosion underneath, painting an arch of fire over the sun.

“Gorgeous, Slit!” Nux yelled though the open roof. “You’re an artist!”

Slit just laughed; the sound against the wailing guitar and drums and explosions in the background was probably the most beautiful thing to ever grace Nux’s ears.

This is what they were made for, this is what they longed for, anything in between was pointless, a dream. This was reality, this was waking, _this_ , Nux thought, was living. He jerked the wheel under his hands, smiling fiercely as the car responded, swerving in front of the rest of the party to help with another band of Buzzards approaching on their right.

There were three Buzzards left; the only one that wasn’t currently doomed had had its roof ripped off, the two _creatures_ inside frantically trying to shoot the lancers of the other cars bearing down on them. Slit grinned, scars stretching grotesquely, and hefted one of his lances, whooping as the explosive landed in between the two in the mangled car. The world went still for a split-second, just long enough for Nux to lock eyes with the driver and growl in triumph. There was fear in those eyes, real terror, the threat of death.

Let them be terrified. War Boys were the shadow of death over scorching hot sands, ghosts of the Immortan’s will, sons of Death himself. They were dread, dripping red with soulless eyes, chrome skeletons void of fear and crazy for death.

“We are War Boys!” Ace’s magnified voice echoed over the desert, followed by a collective scream, a single voice reaching to the heavens, shaking the gods’ ethereal thrones.

“ _We are War Boys!_ ”

“Kami-crazy War Boys!”

“ _Karito musuko kami-crazy War Boys!_ ” Reaper sons, scorching Death embodied.

This is where Nux belonged. Haloed by fire, preceding Death, igniting fear like a spark to the brush of the wasteland. They would burn the very sand, outshine the sun and sweep over the desert like a flood till everything was a hollowed husk, and then they would keep driving, drive to the ending of the world.

They were War Boys. They were chosen, they were hallowed.

They were the only end.

**Author's Note:**

> I just used Google translate for the Japanese. It means 'reaper sons.' (Or at least, that's what Google translate said it meant. c: )


End file.
